


Riding on a Rocket to the Planet of Sound

by turnonmyheels



Category: Lost Girl, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Female Ejaculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnonmyheels/pseuds/turnonmyheels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No spoilers for either show.  Bo passes through Mystic Falls one night looking for someone good to eat.<br/>Notes:  If you are unfamiliar with Lost Girl, get familiar -- it will be airing on SyFy in the near future.  What you need to know:  Dark and Light Fae exist.  Bo is a succubus and she refuses to align herself with either the light or the dark.  If you are unfamiliar with The Vampire Diaries shame on you!  What you need to know:  vampires, werewolves, witches, ghosts, dopplegangers, and a little thing called Hybrids (vampire-werewolf) are real.  Alaric is a high school teacher by day and a Hunter by night.  Damon is a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding on a Rocket to the Planet of Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics taken from Placebo’s Space Monkey. Beta'd by Moosesal and Ladycat777

_We’re sewn together  
She’s born to mesmer  
Beside, astride her  
I die inside her_  
Placebo, Space Monkey

Heads turned -- male and female alike -- as she entered the Mystic Grill. Bo allowed a small smile to tease the corner of her mouth as she strode toward the restroom making sure she had plenty of swagger in her step. When she reached the bathroom, she bent over and looked beneath the stalls. Relieved to see no pesky people to worry about, Bo locked the door behind her. She leaned against the door, eyes closed, allowing herself the luxury of a few minutes deep breathing.

Then she grimaced in pain and limped to the sink.

That last nest of her mother’s thralls were tougher than all the nests she’d previously run into before combined. Her more minor injuries were long healed, leaving only an itchy kind of soreness where once there had been lacerations and bruises, but there was something _wrong_ in her leg. Or hip. Pelvis? Maybe all three. Given how excruciating driving from the next town over had been, probably all three. Bo still wasn’t positive she hadn’t bent the steering wheel from gripping it so hard to distract herself from the pain. Healing was on the agenda and that meant feeding.

All of that translated to sprucing up a bit. Sure, she could mesmerize anyone, but why drain her already low reserves when a little spit and polish could accomplish the same?

Bo leaned heavily against the counter putting as much weight as she could on her good leg as she turned the water on. Waiting for it to heat, she studied her face in the mirror. She looked as road-weary and as exhausted as she felt. Bo held her fingers under the running water and decided it was warm enough. She bent over the sink and splashed her face. The water felt like heaven. A little finger-combing helped tame the frizz. Straightening up meant putting weight on both legs, and a zing of pain made her hiss. Something had to be broken. There was no other reason for it not to have already healed.

Drying off as best she could with some paper towels, Bo returned her focus to the mirror. She looked fresher, at least, if not any better. Digging through her bag she searched for something clean to wear and her ever-present makeup bag. Succubi were beautiful, of course--Bo was pretty sure she was allowed to say that without modesty--and the mesmer was a nice accessory feature, but nothing beat a little make-up. That, however, was the last step. First she had to find something neither smelly nor stained, a trick in and of itself. The tank top was pretty easy to find in the middle of the bag. The denim mini-skirt, more slip of fabric than actual skirt, took a lot longer and Bo nearly said _Eureka_ out loud when she unearthed it from the bottom of her bag.

Both of them were better than the clothes she wore now, stained and bearing more than a few tears from the fight she’d barely escaped. She pulled off her shirt and groaned when something in her back tweaked when it shouldn’t have. Her bra had blood on it too, the garment more brownish-red stain than white by now.

 _“I swear to god, I’m never wearing white underwear again,”_ Bo muttered and winced as she reached behind her to unfasten the bra. It went into the trash can in the corner.

She skimmed off her jeans and underwear and did her best to wash up at the sink: dragging wet and soapy paper towels under her armpits, between her legs, and across her chest. The last of the paper towels were sacrificed for her dirty clothes, working on some of the worst stains. There was no bonus fae trick to magic laundry clean that she’d found. Maybe she’d ask Trick about that when she got back home.

She’d never call herself clean as a whistle, but Bo felt a lot better when she straightened--hissing again at the shift in pressure--and turned her attention to her face. In minutes, her lips were glossy red and her eyes lined in kohl. Bo found a hair brush and worked it through the worst of the snags. Satisfied with her appearance, she crammed everything back into her bag then slung it across her shoulder. Now to find a quick bite to finish healing, then she was off to pick up her mother’s trail again.

There weren’t a lot of people in the place. A few kids younger than Kenzi were shooting pool over in one corner. They looked happy and healthy; not like Kenzi. The image of Kenzi as Bo had seen her last rose unbidden and unwanted. Hooked up to life support in one of The Ash’s medical facilities, wires and tubes running everywhere: giving her fluids, removing others, all the life and vibrancy lost to skin paler than snow. Except for around her eyes, where deep, dark circles had formed, like bruises that went to bone.

Bo was going to find her mother. That wasn’t a question or a possibility. Bo was going to _find_ her mother, and when she was finished with her, the curse she had cast on Kenzi would be gone and her mother would be little more than a footnote in the dark fae history pages. Bo felt the now familiar rush of rage come over her--her hands clenched into fists she couldn’t quite relax if she tried--while she resisted the urge to put those kids into the same condition Kenzi was in. Sometimes fighting her heritage was more difficult than others. Especially when Kenzi wasn’t there to reel her in and remind her that life was supposed to be fun, maybe even happy.

Bo’s gaze left the kids and skimmed the room. There were a few families scattered in high-backed booths here and there. The bar held likelier prospects where two men--one blond, one brunet--were drinking. Bingo. Bo added an extra bit of sway to her walk and headed toward her prey. They were sitting side by side arguing about something. She climbed onto a stool a few down from them. The brunet caught her gaze and smiled. It … wasn’t a nice smile. It was the kind of smile that said, “I kill people, for fun.” Bo killed people too--although not for fun and never intentionally, but that didn’t make them any less dead--so she matched his smile.

The bartender was another of the nice, normal looking teens, this one with sandy blond hair and an innocent smile. He set a glass of red wine in front of her. “From Damon,” he explained, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“The serial killer or the quiet-but-dangerous-type beside him?”

The bartender snorted. “You read people well.”

“A girl has to in this world.” She sipped the wine, surprised to find it decent. “Give Damon my thanks.” The kid nodded and went back to drying glasses.

Bo casually studied the two men down the bar. She needed to _feed_. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the pain off of her face. She’d barely had a sip or two of the wine when the dark-haired guy with the serial killer smile laid some money on the bar and left. Bo bit back a curse. That was one potential source of food squandered, and from the looks of it, if she didn’t make her move soon, the blond was going to leave as well.

That meant she’d have to choose from the teens playing pool and the clearly underage bartender.

Bo didn’t do children.

The helpfully placed mirror allowed her to catch the blond’s gaze. Despite his rugged handsomeness, he had the look of a man who didn’t care about anything. Normally, not her type--soul-deep melancholy wasn’t exactly yummy--but she was so far beyond being picky at this point it didn’t matter. Bo picked up her wine and moved onto the seat next to him. “You look like you could use some company.” She put a bit of huskiness into her voice.

The man snorted into his drink. “Sure I do.”

Bo waited a minute for him to pick up the conversation. It didn’t normally take a lot. Yet her glass was nearly empty and the seconds had ticked by with nothing but the crack of breaking balls and the clink of silverware before Bo had had enough. _To hell with this._ She put a hand onto his wrist and _pushed_ into the man her... whatever it was that made a succubus a succubus. Fae called it chi, for lack of a better term, one she thought was ridiculous but was better than anything she could come up with on her own. It was difficult when her reserves were this low, and more than a little painful while she waited for her chi to latch on to his and initiate the feedback process. It felt like a lifetime before the energy finally started to return, stronger now than when she had sent it; strengthened and infused with his life force. She had him. “Why don’t we find someplace else to be?”

He looked at her, a dazed expression on his face. _Shit._ She must have her hooks deeper into him than she had planned. She hated when they went mindless. To be fair to him, the connection went both ways, she was more than a little drunk on him. She hadn’t had a human meal in a very long time. These days she fed from other fae, or took what was left from the thralls when she found them. This man tasted _good_. Salty and sweet with a punch at the end that twisted in her loins and made her throb with the need to consume all of him. “I live just down the street.” He slammed back what was left of his drink and put a handful of crumpled bills down on the bar. “G’night, Matt.”

“Good night, Mr. Saltzman,” the bartender responded.

Saltzman put a hand on the small of Bo’s back and led her outside. “At the end of this block,” he said once they were into the clean night air. His fingers worked beneath the edge of her tank top and rubbed small circles onto her skin. Thank god for the feedback loop. Bo was glad she’d expended the extra effort because even this little bit was helping.

The more he wanted her, the better she felt. The better she felt, the more he wanted her.

Her hip--and it was definitely her hip, not her leg--twinged in protest as Bo sped up. Annoying, but as she pushed through it she became far less aware of the pain as she matched him stride for stride. He had long legs, this Saltzman, nicely formed underneath his khakis. By the time they reached his front door his fingers had found their way beneath the waistband of her tiny excuse for a skirt, the heel of his palm pressed against the base of her spine, his heat sinking into her body. It sped the healing energy flowing to her hip. He had nice fingers, too.

Bo leaned back against the door and pulled him to her, interrupting his fumble for his keys. She kissed him hungrily, taking complete control. She parted his lips with her tongue then slid inside his mouth. He moaned and pushed against her as she began drawing his life energy into her. The chi flowed through her heading straight to her hip, relief spreading like balm from head to toe. Much, much better. Bo sighed into the kiss, releasing him now that the worst of it had been taken care of. She watched him lick his lips and reach for her, eager for more. “Inside,” she laughed, and took over the task of unlocking the door.

A look of surprise washed over his face as she stepped over the threshold. Bo cocked her head, uncertain of his reaction. That was the kind of surprise that made her recent fae awareness start to tingle with worry. Then she shifted her weight and discovered that while the healing had started it was in no way complete. She hid a wince with an alluring smile. “What are you waiting for? I’m right here.”

She grabbed him by the belt, and his surprise turned to wary appreciation as she yanked him inside. They crashed together, stumbling and unsteady until they fell backward on a perfectly placed couch. Then she dragged him on top of her.

Something -- definitely not a body part -- immediately stabbed her bad hip. Bo gasped at the unexpected flare of pain. “Is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

The intentionally husky tone of her voice distracted him for a moment, already lost to kissing. “What?” The question was just an automatic response, he was too busy reaching between her legs, skirt already hiked up past her hips to touch her bare, slick, flesh.

Going commando was a valid life choice when you were a hungry succubus.

Bo hissed in approval and spread her legs open as wide as she could, hooking one foot over the back of the couch, the other on the floor. “Jesus.”

Bo was hungry and Saltzman kissed like he wanted her to enjoy it, a level of awareness that was unusual when she mesmerized them too hard. It was nice and Bo could do with some nice for a change.

She unfastened his pants with one hand, the other digging around his pocket to get rid of whatever it was that kept poking her. The object was smooth and a little warm to the touch. She pulled it free then held up to examine it while Saltzman found the most perfect place underneath her ear, ripping off her tank-top in his eagerness.

It was … a piece of wood? That sent another fae-tingle down her spine, only she could feel him now, hot and blunt where she was already so wet. _Whatever_ , she thought, and tossed the wood aside in favor of shoving his pants further down his hips.

A shift, a wiggle, and _there_ he was inside her. Bo nearly muttered a prayer of thanks when it became clear he knew what he was doing.

So did she.

She ceded him control. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and pushed until he bottomed out. His head hung down as he thrust, setting a fast, brutal pace. The tips of his hair tickled her breasts and like that, Bo came. In an instant, she rolled them off of the couch, onto the floor, and landed astride him. Bo braced her hands on his chest and moved. By the second rock his energy was pouring into her, filling up the empty places, setting off a string of explosive orgasms that ended with her crashed onto his chest. Bo laughed a little and sat up, rocking her hips again. “Want some more, Mr. Saltzman?”

He didn’t answer her or move.

“Fuck. No, no.” Bo bent over him and tried to blow her chi into his mouth. Nothing happened. “No, NO!” She yelled then pressed her hands against his chest and began CPR. “Come on, I didn’t mean it! Don’t be dead.” She pumped a few more times and then blew into his mouth, but he didn’t resuscitate. “It was an accident. I swear!” Bo heaved herself off of his body and looked at his mostly naked corpse.

 _What a waste of a gorgeous man._ She stepped over him and grimaced at the wet smear of their come dripping between her thighs. Kenzi would tell her not to be too hard on herself. Dyson would yell at her and insist she only feed from fae. Her mother would laugh and tell her to enjoy the feed. Bo decided in this one case Kenzi had the right of it. She put her clothes back on and walked down the block to her car. “This is not the time to panic or be overly dramatic.” She said the words out loud hoping that hearing them would help. She was clearly more run down than she’d thought or she never would have lost control like. She retrieved her suitcases and walked back to Mr. Saltzman’s apartment. No way was she turning down a night in an actual bed and a hot shower. Maybe he would have something to eat too. She was sick to death of fast food.

She locked the door behind her and closed all the curtains. She had just stepped over his body and was heading deeper into the apartment to find the bathroom when she heard a sound. She whipped around and saw him sitting up, sucking in air as if he had drowned. He looked wildly around the room and saw her. “What are you?” He leaped to his feet and pulled some crazy kind of crossbow-rifle out of nowhere and threatened her with it.

Bo held out her hands, palms out. “I’m a person.”

“Doubt that.” He cocked something trigger-like and squared off across from her. “Try again.”

“You’re one to talk.” She stepped toward him. “A minute ago you were dead and now you’re trying to kill me.”

“Eternity ring. If something supernatural kills me, I don’t stay dead.” He waved the fingers of one hand at her. “What. Are. You?”

Bo stepped closer to him and he fired. She screamed in pain as the bolt hit her quadriceps. She closed in on him, snatching the weapon away before he could reload. “Missed my vitals.” Bo tossed the weapon across the room. It shattered against the wall as she was yanking the arrow out of her leg.

“On purpose.” He was backing away from her now, eyes darting around the room. Bo backed him against the wall before he could find another weapon. She placed a hand on either side of his face and pulled him toward her for a kiss. As his life-force flowed into her, the wound in her leg healed and her eyes glowed.

When she finally released him from the kiss, he sagged against the wall until he was sitting on the floor panting for breath, erection tenting his pants and a glazed expression on his face. “What are you?”

“I’m what you call a friendly succubus -- a rare species, I’m told.” Bo grabbed both of his hands and yanked him to his feet. “Normally, I don’t kill people when I feed. Sorry.” Bo ran her hands over his arms and legs, then rested her palm against his chest. “I really didn’t mean to kill you. If I go too far, I can usually give the life force back. That didn’t work on you.”

“S’okay.” The glassiness was fading from his eyes, he held up the hand with the ring. “I’m used to it.”

“I’m not. You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had something” -- Bo dropped to her knees and untied his boots and loosened the laces -- “human. I’d forgotten how much better it is.” She pulled off his shoes then yanked off his pants and underwear at the same time. “You taste amazing.” She looked up at him through her lashes and took him into her mouth. He slid along her tongue, his girth stretching her mouth wide. She pulled back and released him with a popping sound. “Thank you for healing me.” Bo licked around the head of his dick, teased the slit with her tongue before taking him inside again.

He snorted in response and buried his hands in her hair. As she sucked and licked and swallowed, Bo fed her chi into him, giving him strength and an erection that wouldn’t quit until she wanted it to. When he was at the breaking point she released him, cut off the energy feed, and climbed to her feet. “Let’s take this someplace more comfortable, Mr. Saltzman.” She held out her hand to him and he took it, letting her pull him to his feet.

He was dazed again but quickly shaking it off. “It’s Ric.” He tilted his head and headed toward the back of the apartment. Bo followed, kicking off her shoes and skirt in the process. The bedroom was sparsely furnished, bed unmade, clothes and weapons scattered everywhere.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, but since you asked me, what are _you_?”

“History teacher by day.” Ric pulled all the covers off leaving only the red fitted sheet and a couple of pillows on the bed. “Vampire hunter by night.”

Bo laughed at him, she couldn’t help it. “Vampires? That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Tell me, Ric the Vampire Hunter, what is your deepest desire?” His face clouded over and his expression closed off. “Nuh-uh, nothing heavy here just carnal desire.” He grabbed her roughly and pushed her onto the bed, burying his face between her thighs.

Bo could work with that. He wrapped his lips around her clit and circled it with his tongue. Bo could _absolutely_ work with that. He slid two fingers in her cunt while he worked her clit and Bo shrieked in pleasure, coming nearly instantly. She expected him to stop -- human men nearly always did after they made a woman come by hand or mouth, ready to stick it in and get theirs, but not Ric. Ric sucked her clit. Tongued the hood. Pumped his fingers in and out of her swollen cunt, then pressed in and worked her G-spot until there was a literal puddle beneath her.

Bo panted trying to catch her breath while he ruthlessly drove her upward to another peak. Her eyes slit open and the room was nearly glowing with light from the energy flowing between them.

“On your knees.” The words were gravelly, his voice almost broken. Bo rolled over onto her hands and knees. He covered her instantly, slid inside smooth as silk. His thrusts were slow and deep, hands squeezed her hips, used them for leverage moving her back and forth with him. She came again this time in a squirting flood, completely out of the blue. He captured some of the fluid as it ran down her leg and smeared it around the rim of her ass. He worked one finger in, then a second, all the while fucking her slow and deep. Bo’s hands clenched into the fitted sheet, fingernails dug into the surface, gouging holes. He pulled out, all the way, and her cunt ached with emptiness. “No.” Bo demanded as his fingers left her ass. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He responded by pushing into her ass. Bo reared up onto her knees, locking her hands behind his neck. She could see them in the mirror over the dresser. The room was definitely glowing now, bathed in a pinkish purple light, the energy flowing between them a vortex of pleasure. He walked them forward on his knees until Bo could reach the headboard. Her hands gripped the metal and his found their way on top of hers. He pulled back then, until he was nearly completely out of her before he slammed his way back in.

For as gentle as he’d been a moment ago he was a hundred times more brutal than she’d imagined he could be. Bo winced at the next thrust, then his hand came between her legs and worked her clit and all that mattered was: more, harder, faster, more, now, don’t stop, god, yes, now, now, now. He yanked her head back by her hair and somehow managed to kiss her, thumb her clit, slide fingers into her cunt, then he rolled his hips and she felt him spurting off deep inside her. Bo’s entire body clenched, the room went supernova white as they both shattered into orgasm.

Later, much later, after at least three more rounds of sex, breakfast, lunch, and a late afternoon sixty-nine, Bo packed up her bag and walked a bit bowlegged to her car. Ric leaned into the driver’s side window. “Are you sure you don’t want help? I make amazing weapons and can hit a target at 30 yards.”

“I appreciate that more than you know. But my mother isn’t a friendly succubus. She’d have you for dinner in half a second.”

Ric waved the hand with the eternity ring on it.

Bo appreciated the gesture but shook her head. “It’s the kind of thing I need to do alone.”

Understanding crossed his face and he stood back away from the car. “Anytime you get a hankering for something human …”

“As soon as my friend is well and ready to travel, we’re making a cross-country trip right back here.” Bo cranked the engine and slid the stick into reverse. “Maybe I can bring my friend Dyson and he can help you with your Hybrid problem.”

“Sounds like fun.” Ric slapped the car door and stepped back as she pulled out of the parking spot. She was nearly out of hearing range when she heard him say, “Damon is never going to believe what happened last night.”


End file.
